Boom.

The two forces slammed into each other and detonated in a thunderclap that shook the very air. The shockwave sent cracks spreading across the sacrificial platform in the square — the cracks in the stone tiles beneath radiating outward like a spider’s web.

The sudden eruption startled everyone who had not yet fully departed, freezing them in place. They spun around in astonishment to see Lang Jiuchuan and the Rong Family Head suspended in midair, their robes snapping and billowing in the blast.

They were actually fighting?

The Rong Family Head had been waiting for a moment when Lang Jiuchuan was unprepared, intending to cut her down in a single strike — for he knew well that this woman was strange and demonically dangerous, and that every disaster that had befallen the Rong Family today had been brought upon them by this anomalous existence.

Without her, without her stirring the winds and rearranging the clouds, the Rong clan would never have fallen into a state of utter disgrace. Rong Yiming himself would never have had his authority questioned and been made a laughingstock.

Compared to his unfilial son, the one the Rong Family Head hated most was still Lang Jiuchuan — the thorn in his flesh, the nail in his eye. He would not rest until she was removed.

Her very existence was a constant, inescapable reminder of his failure. And so he had made his move — even with the crowd not yet fully gone, he would strike this demon woman down beneath his palm. Whether or not he had a righteous cause for doing so was irrelevant.

But Lang Jiuchuan reacted with blinding speed. The palm of lightning she hurled met his blow head-on, sending him skidding back several steps. The upright and potent force of thunder made his throat flood with bitterness, and the gravity in his eyes deepened by several degrees. His pupils slammed shut. His killing intent reached its apex. “Form the array — bring her down!” he snarled.

Lang Jiuchuan slowly withdrew her hand. Her clear, cold eyes met the Rong Family Head’s devouring gaze without a trace of fear. She said quietly, “Rong Family Head — killing to silence witnesses will not wash away the filth and crimes that stain your hands. Everything you face today is the consequence of your own actions. You brought this upon yourself.”

Her voice was like cold ice, its chill piercing through to his five senses, driving itself deep: “You brutalized and slaughtered your own blood. You discarded all human bonds. You deserve to be condemned by heaven and earth alike.”

Good. Rage. Go a little more unhinged. When I strike, it will be justified.

The Rong Family Head saw the mockery and provocation written plainly on her face, and his fury flipped into a laugh of cold, boundless contempt. “You — whatever wandering spirit you are, possessing another’s body and still daring to strut about so openly? Very well, very well! Today I will strip you bare before everyone here, leave you nowhere to hide, and drag you into the light for all to see! And as for you, you unfilial wretch — betraying your own clan is an outrage against heaven’s law. You all deserve to die!”

Tantai Di Ji, protected in the center of a circle formed by Bafang Daochang and several disciples, had withdrawn to a corner of safety. She heard these words and her heart lurched violently. She snapped her head up to stare at the woman hovering above, straining with all her focus to see through the surface and discern the soul dwelling beneath.

The sky darkened overhead without warning. Black clouds churned and roiled, as though heaven itself were about to collapse. Those who sensed the danger quickened their retreat, desperate to avoid being caught in the tide.

Others — the bolder ones — watched from a safe distance.

Tantai Di Ji did not leave either. She wanted to see. She needed to see a little more.

Wu Youzi appeared suddenly, his voice frigid: “Rong Yiming — you brutalized your own blood, have been abandoned by all who once stood by you, and still you refuse to reflect on your wrongs. Still you want to kill and silence witnesses. Does no one here know that your closed cultivation was for the purpose of practicing the Soul-Devouring Art? The Rong Family has imprisoned countless demonic spirits and monsters over the years — you drained every last one of their soul power for your own use. That is why your energy and aura are so turbulent and mixed. What you have done is no different from a demon. You deserve to be put down.”

When he had gone to burn those forbidden records hidden within the clan, he had discovered that the text on the Soul-Devouring Art was gone. And the Rong Family Head urgently needed to replenish his power — he would take desperate measures, betting everything on one desperate gamble.

What?

The Soul-Devouring Art — this was a secret technique from the demonic sect Kongjin. It operated by absorbing the power of others’ souls for one’s own use. Utterly vile and insidious.

To practice such a technique was to fall into demonhood.

No wonder the Rong Family Head’s aura had seemed so unsettling and chaotic just now. They had assumed it was the rage distorting his energy — but was it because his power was a turbulent mixture?

Yes. If those souls included humans, spirits, and demons all at once, of course the energy would be jumbled.

“Silence, you unfilial wretch!” The Rong Family Head let out a thunderous roar as Wu Youzi stripped away his secret, his gaze on the man like he was already looking at a corpse. The chaotic energy swirling through him could no longer be suppressed, and it went savage.

He hated Lang Jiuchuan for destroying everything he had painstakingly built. He hated his only son’s betrayal and defiance. The fury robbed him of all patience.

Now, only one thought remained in his mind: with enough strength, he could stand sovereign and alone. He did not need to rely on anyone.

Survival of the fittest — that was the one truth that never changed.

If that was the truth, then what did it matter whether he was righteous or evil?

As the Rong Family Head arrived at this realization, he released the energy he had been forcing down completely. His Pressure Aura flooded outward and expanded, draining the color from every face around him.

He was already haggard and hollow-cheeked from the backlash, his hair in wild disarray. Now, with his energy fully released, he looked like a demon given flesh — and what radiated from him was no longer clean, righteous thunder. It was a dark, pitch-black energy, turbulent and filthy, seething with the presence of countless aggrieved souls.

Lang Jiuchuan and Wu Youzi exchanged a single glance. Their expressions chilled simultaneously. The Rong Family Head, already battered by two separate formation backlashes, could still release energy this terrifying. Had he been at his peak — unhurt, untouched — what manner of horror would he have been?

Would everyone present have become nothing more than fuel for his power?

No matter. He was choosing his own destruction. She would nail him firmly into the category of demonic evil first.

“This matter is no concern of any fellow cultivator here. All of you — withdraw immediately. The Rong Family Head has fallen to demonhood. Do not allow him to drain your energy and cultivation — if he does, you will die.” Lang Jiuchuan drew on her inner power and projected the words far across the square.

The Rong Family members stared at their Family Head — hair a wild mess, features contorted into something monstrous and ghoulish — and crumpled to the ground where they stood. There was nothing left to explain or cover up. The Rong Family’s reputation was utterly, irreparably destroyed.

Tantai Di Ji’s face went cold. “Elder,” she said, “when the moment comes — help them bring down the Rong Family Head.”

A Daoist who practiced such a vile and malicious art would become a nightmare for every cultivator in existence. Once his techniques reached full mastery, he would not stop. He would only drain more and more, taking everything for himself.

Human desire had no bottom.

That the Rong Family Head had come to practice such a demonic technique meant he had already abandoned all moral limits. He had chosen to become evil of his own free will. From this point on, nothing he said would hold any weight.

Bafang Daochang did not respond directly. He only said, “Holy Maiden must guard her spirit and consciousness so as not to be caught in the crossfire.”

As soon as Lang Jiuchuan’s warning spread, those cultivators of lower power who already felt the disturbing effect on their souls hastily fled the scene, terrified of becoming even a moment’s nourishment for the Rong Family Head.

The Rong Family Head stared fixedly at Lang Jiuchuan, his eyes glinting with crimson madness. His mind held only a single thought: kill her, shred her spirit to dust, and only then might the hatred burning in his chest find release.

“What are you standing there gaping for?! Form the array — bring them all down!” he roared at the clan’s disciples and followers.

The crowd trembled in terror. Just as they were about to move, Wu Youzi erupted with a palm strike that struck the ground in front of them, the strange force blasting a deep pit in the earth. Some who could not dodge in time tumbled in, letting out a cry of pain.

“Rong Yiming has practiced demonic arts,” Wu Youzi said, his voice cutting and severe. “Any who obey his commands are nothing but lackeys of the demonic path — condemned by all under heaven, with every cultivator entitled to cut them down. After today, the Rong Family ceases to exist. Make your own futures. Decide well. To persist in this course of action is to be cut down without mercy.”

The moment his words fell, he launched his assault against the Rong Family Head.